Celine hadn’t slept that night.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her pulse thrumming against her throat. The anticipation coiled so tightly inside her that she thought she might unravel before the ceremony even began. She’d gone through every possibility, every outcome, trying to prepare herself.
She had no idea what would happen when she stepped into that circle.
You’ll shift this time. She whispered the words to herself like a prayer. A desperate, pleading thing.
But even now, doubt curled around her ribs, suffocating.
Lyra, you’ll come through for me, won’t you? We will shift tomorrow.
Her wolf was silent for a long moment. Then, softly, I’ll always be here. But Celine, you have to understand… I can’t force what isn’t ready.
Celine squeezed her eyes shut, turning onto her side. I have to shift. I don’t get another chance.
You don’t need to prove anything to them, Lyra said gently.
Celine let out a breath, staring at the dark room. Then why does it feel like I do?
***
The Luna ceremony was everything Celine had imagined it would be—grand, overwhelming, suffocating. The clearing was packed. Lanterns burned along the perimeter, their glow casting flickering shadows over the sea of faces gathered to watch. The full moon hung above them, pale and cold, like a silent judge.
The nominees stood in a perfect line, draped in light ceremonial cloth. Their shoulders were back, their heads held high, every movement rehearsed. One by one, they stepped forward into the circle. One by one, they shifted.
Celine could barely hear the applause. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the cheers as each she-wolf emerged—graceful, powerful, shining beneath the moonlight. The crowd responded to each shift with joy, admiration, pride.
She clenched her hands at her sides, digging her fingers into her palms to keep them from trembling.
At the front of the clearing, Leon sat in his carved wooden seat, his posture relaxed but commanding. Even without speaking, he held the attention of everyone there. His gaze drifted toward her once—steady, unreadable—and then moved on.
Her stomach twisted.
Then, without realizing how much time had passed, she noticed the shifting had stopped. No more movement. No more wolves stepping into the circle. The cheers faded. The stillness that followed felt too sudden, too sharp.
It was her turn.
A hush settled over the gathering. The silence stretched, thick and expectant, pressing down on her chest like weight. She stepped forward, drawing in a shallow breath, forcing it past the tightness in her throat.
She closed her eyes.
Now, Lyra. We have to do this now.
Her wolf stirred, steady and quiet.
You need to stop fighting yourself. You’re forcing it.
I’m not—I…
But she was. Her pulse was racing. Her muscles were locked. She wasn’t allowing the shift—she was clawing for it, gripping it so tightly she was choking the connection before it could form.
Nothing happened.
Her skin stayed human. Her body refused to move. The shift didn’t come.
A second passed. Then another. The silence stretched thinner, brittle and cruel.
Whispers started at the edges of the crowd.
“She’s not shifting.”
“She can’t.”
“I heard she never has.”
The words slid through the clearing like knives.
Celine stood frozen, heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes lifted—and there she was. Lilith. Standing beside Luke, her arms crossed, her lips curved in a slow, triumphant smile. She didn’t need to say anything. Celine could hear it anyway.
I always knew you would amount to nothing.
The humiliation rose like bile, thick and choking.
She swallowed hard. Forced her spine straight. She wouldn’t break. Not here. Not now.
Alpha Roman stepped into the center of the clearing, his expression cold, his posture sharp with purpose. The moment his voice rang out, she knew what he was about to do.
“Let it be known,” he said, his tone clear and loud enough to reach the edges of the crowd, “that she was once of our pack, but she does not—and will never—belong to us again.”
There was no hesitation. No pause. Just the sentence. A blade, clean and final. The words hit her like a blow to the ribs.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Someone muttered in disbelief. A few people turned to whisper behind their hands. But Celine barely heard any of it. Her ears rang. Her chest ached. And through it all, she didn’t move. She didn’t dare look at Leon.